


Mad World

by amymaria



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 10:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11103105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amymaria/pseuds/amymaria
Summary: Short fic inspired by live version of Mad World





	Mad World

Jen had never felt so alive. Was she even alive? Surely she had died at some point, either from her heart pumping so fast or because she’d been suffocated by the crushing number of bodies. They were sweating, shouting, jumping and everything was dark and blue. Dark blue. With flashes of white pulsing to a beat. The colours slowly morphed into purple, then pink, then red, then faded back to blue. And oh God people were screaming, Jen was screaming. But it was good, so so so good because not a second later could she hear a melody being played from an electric keyboard that she could not find over the sea of heads in front her. If she stretched on her tiptoes she could just capture a glimpse of a man’s head covered in neon yellow hair, nodding his head in time with the beat which she assumed was him creating on stage. To yellow-hair’s left was another man with natural brown hair instead. He was looking down and pressing his lips to a microphone. And when Jen thought, it can’t get better than this, she was surprised to find actually it could. Because when he started singing, this brown-haired man who looked closer to being a boy in all honesty, she swore she’d never heard a voice sound so angelic.

It continued like that for a while: the rhythmic beating, the hypnotic sounds, the beautiful singing that could go from low one second to beautifully high the next. His voice reminded Jen of herself, always on the cusp of reality, not quite really there. Which sounds odd because how can someone’s voice make you wonder if you are living in an illusion? But you see it was in the man’s melancholic undertones that carried across this feeling of fantasy. And if you were lucky enough to lock eyes even for a millisecond, you’d see the passion of the music driving him forwards; this time on stage was his release from all the pressures of the day. It was his escape, that much was clear to Jen. And she wanted to escape too.

But tonight wasn’t the night. Jen’s escape was shortly lived when suddenly she felt a sharp pain in her nose as an elbow crashed into her face. And oh wow that hurts. Like really hurts. And somethings trickling down her philtrum onto her lips. She goes to wipe it with the back of hand and finds it coming away red. Nice. Eager to make her way to the toilets to clean herself up and assess the damage, Jen pushes her way through the ever-crushing crowd.

She soon finds her way to the side railings where a bald man in a yellow jacket stands arms crossed in front of a door. His eyes instantly catch sight of the blood shining in the light from stage. “Woah are you okay? Come here” he urges Jen forwards, his face full of concern. Jen steps forwards and explains “I’m fine, just need to clean it up, can you tell me where the toilets are?”

“I think you need medical attention. Follow me”. Jen follows him. Through the door he stood behind and down an empty white-walled corridor. So much for the gig. Jen leaves a trail of red spots behind as they make their way around and eventually to a small room with a woman sat behind a desk. In no time at all the blood’s cleaned away and the woman tells Jen “It’s broken. Not much I can do. Take it easy.” “Cool, can I go back to the show?” The woman throws a funny look at Jen. Jen is escorted out.

Down the corridors again, everything is white except for the occasional spot of red.   
“Dude is that blood?”  
“Dude I think so.”  
Jen looked up to find two men rounding the corner ahead. One had neon yellow hair, the other had natural brown.


End file.
